


Exercises in Accepting Fact

by desperationandgin



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 06:13:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desperationandgin/pseuds/desperationandgin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the 70s DHARMA days, James disappears and Juliet is left alone with her thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exercises in Accepting Fact

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by the wonderful LJ uer ciaimpala. Prompt - 'reunion.'

She hasn’t seen him for five days. A simple, supposed to be easy meeting with Richard has turned into five days of Juliet wondering where the hell James is, if he’s safe, if he’s dead, and wondering when the hell she started caring like this. It’s been eleven months since her two weeks were up, and three weeks since she started sleeping with him, and they were both pretty positive it was a onetime thing, then a weekend thing, and then ‘there’s nothing else to do, so why the hell not?’ thing.  
  
Only at some point in that three weeks she’s stopped sleeping well at night when he’s not there, and she wonders if he’s just fine or if he tosses and turns like she does.  
  
Son of a  _bitch_.  
  
Considering her track record, she’s doing a shitty job of not getting attached again like she’d promised herself after Goodwin. Well, after Jack. No, after Goodwin, for sure. Jack was just…Jack, and she’d rather not think about it.  
  
For the fifth day she’s pacing her porch, one arm crossed over her stomach and the other dragging along the railing as she stares hard out into the tree line, like maybe she’ll see him first. She went to work the first three days, but the last two she’s been such a fucking mess that her boss told her to just stay home. Which, when had she ever imagined herself doing that? Sitting at home worrying about James?  
  
When the sun sets and he’s still not back, Juliet’s had about as much as she can take, and she’s about to march to Horace’s place herself when suddenly the flood lights kick on and people are rushing toward the trees with rifles raised.  
  
“Calm down, boys. Hell, you forget what I look like?”  
  
From where she is he looks fine, but he’s still far away. She’s not moving, just staring, and she watches as Horace approaches James first. She sees the handshake and then a sort of awkward hug before he looks like he’s scanning for someone until his eyes land on her. She’s at least sixty yards away but it feels like it’s just them for a split second, before everyone mills around him again  
  
She figures he’s safe now, so she goes inside. Closes her door and sits on the couch with her elbows on her knees. It’s a full hour before she hears him clomping up her porch and he knocks even as she’s calling for him to come in. Getting up she stands right there, right in front of the couch, waiting. When he comes around the entry way, he looks toward the kitchen first before seeing her in the living room.  
  
There’s no blood, no bruises, and she lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Where the hell were you?” It sounds harsher in her ears than she meant for it to, and she closes her eyes, regrouping before she speaks again. But when she opens her eyes he’s suddenly standing right in front of her and she’s staring at a spot on his khaki jumpsuit.  
  
“Horace wouldn’t let me tell anyone what was goin’ on. Had to make sure this meetin’ went off without any surprises.”  
  
“You could have told me,” she protests, looking up at him, knowing it’s not fair. That after all the lies he’s had to tell to get to this point, the least he can give to Horace now is his word.  
  
“So, you’re mad?” James asks; still close enough to touch, but neither one of them moving.  
  
“I was worried about you.” When she finally looks up at him her eyes are honest and blue, and he can’t help but bend down and kiss her, one hand stroking through her hair.  
  
“You’re definitely a sight for sore eyes,” he says against her mouth. “I missed you.”  
  
There’s no talking for a second – she’s too busy chasing his tongue with hers, and biting at his bottom lip, and pressing her hips right against his. But finally she breaks away long enough to let him kiss her neck so that she can talk. “Missed me, huh?” Her last words come out as a soft gasp, his fingers sliding under her shirt. “Prove it,” she challenges him.  
  
His grin is quick as a flash then gone before he hoists her over his shoulder and carries her to the bedroom.


End file.
